58
Present, Orlando, Florida
The conference is boring. With the lights down low and considering how tired I am from yesterday, it’s a struggle to stay awake. I’m into my third cup of coffee but can’t stop yawning. The only thing keeping me from falling into a complete stupor is Ethan’s presence beside me. Sneakily glancing at him in the dark, with only the glow from the presenter’s screen at the front of the room, I trace the lines of his face as my daydreaming mind wanders. Those straight eyebrows, the tiny scar. That cleft chin and stubble-covered jaw. That full bottom lip. What would he taste like? How would he feel? My gaze travels to his powerful arms and broad chest, remembering how solid he was sleeping next to me last night. Large hands with ropy veins along the back. What those hands could do.…
Without looking over, Ethan writes on a napkin and slides it across to me. Why are you staring at me like I’m candy and you’re a kid on Halloween?
With an embarrassed intake of breath, I rip my eyes off him and whip my body to face forward. In my peripheral vision, I see his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Annoyed that he called me out, I scoot my chair a few inches away with a disgruntled hmph. I cross my arms over my chest and glare ahead, tuning into the lecture on inhalational lung disease.
Ethan’s laughter becomes louder, and a few heads glance our way. “Don’t be like that, Tiffy,” he whispers and reaches out to grab hold of my chair. With one quick tug, he easily pulls me back over to him. Now we’re sitting even closer, our shoulders almost touching. Ethan snatches the napkin and flips it over to the blank side. He bends his head over it, scribbling furiously. Curiosity makes me crane my head around, trying to see what he’s doing.
He finishes writing and slides the note across the table like a blackjack dealer.
I’m bored. When can we leave?
I take the pen from his hand and write back.
The lectures are done at three.
Ethan pulls the pen from my hand almost before I’m finished writing.
I’m not going to make it. Let’s get out of here.
I take the pen, noting how warm it is from Ethan’s fingers.
We can’t. I don’t want to get in trouble.
Ethan snorts derisively when he reads my response.
How could you get in trouble? No one knows us here. Who’s going to tell? I want to go to Epcot early!
Good point. Everyone here is focused on the presentation. Who would notice if we left?
Ethan’s already shoving his papers into his bag when I write back.
Okay. Let’s go.
Giggling like school kids, we burst out of the hotel lobby doors and into an overcast Orlando day. Fluffy gray clouds drift and swirl overhead. It’s dry for now, but the air smells metallic. A rainstorm is coming.
“Look,” says Ethan, pointing, “there’s a bus about to leave for Epcot. Let’s catch it.”
A large red bus with a huge Mickey Mouse face plastered on its side sits idling in the roundabout in front of our hotel. It looks like it just arrived, with a long line of passengers waiting to enter.
Ethan starts toward the bus.
“Wait.” I place my hand on his chest, stopping him. “Should we go upstairs and change first?”
“And miss the bus? Who knows how long we’d have to wait for the next one? Let’s go now.” He’s all anxious excitement, a kid on Christmas morning.
“But I’m wearing a skirt.” I gesture at my body.
A suggestive grin spreads across Ethan’s face. “And you’re wearing it quite well, if you don’t mind me saying.” He pretends to lean around and stare at my backside. Apparently, he still has a thing for sexy librarians.
“Ethan!” I swat his arm, laughing.
“Do you need to go back? I guess you should change your shoes.” He glances at my sensible low heels, a frown of concern wiping away his crooked smile.
“No, it’s fine. These shoes are surprisingly comfortable,” I tell him honestly.
The last of the line of people is boarding the bus.
“Great. Let’s go.” Ethan holds out his hand. I take it and together we run to catch the bus. We get there right before the driver closes the door. He lets us in with a disgruntled stare.
Squeezing past standing bodies and baby strollers, we move to the back. At the next stop, most of the people exit, so we sit down. I push my fingers through my hair, separating it strand by strand. The damp Florida humidity makes it curl. “I feel so naughty. I can’t believe we just skipped out on the rest of the lectures like that.”
Ethan quirks an eyebrow at me. “What? You never did that before? Skipped out on classes, back in high school and college, to go have some fun? Didn’t you ever lie to your mom and sneak out of the house?”
Shaking my head, I answer, “When my mom was sick and right after she died, I missed a lot of school, but I never ditched for fun.”
I don’t tell him about how I may not have ditched school, but I definitely have snuck around. All those nights of lying to my mom and Mr. Chen when I went to the Strip. How would Ethan react if I mentioned that? Would he push me away with revulsion? Reject me? I can’t keep him in the dark forever, but the thought of losing his respect and trust is too painful.
Chuckling, he says, “Well, we’re going to have to change that. Priority number one is making sure Tiffy has the best day ever so she won’t feel guilty about missing the lectures.”
His arm lays draped along the back of my seat. When I shift back, Ethan doesn’t move. Instead, he curls his fingers so they gently brush the top of my shoulder. Just a casual touch, so small, and yet my breath catches at the sensation.
The bus rumbles along the street. I angle my body toward him. “I like that plan. It can’t be too much fun though. Otherwise, I might just skip the rest of this conference.”
“Now you’re giving me a challenge,” teases Ethan.
“Uh-oh.” I laugh. “You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?”
“I certainly hope so.” Ethan’s giving me that dark sexy look again and the way he says it, like it’s a promise for later, sends a tingle deep into my lower stomach.
The bus jolts to a stop, and it’s time to get out. After we scan through the gates, I lead us deeper into the park. Ethan’s silent at my side as we walk. There’s a thoughtful, almost sad expression on his face. Eventually, he says, “I’m sorry your mom passed away. I was thinking about how difficult that must’ve been for you.”
Ah, that’s what has been making him so unusually quiet.
“How old were you when that happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” he says softly.
I wait for the depressed feeling I often get when I think back to that time, but it doesn’t happen. I’m calm, like maybe I can have this conversation and come out on the other side and still be okay. It’s a new thought that grief doesn’t have to be my only companion.
“I had just turned 18.” I lift my gaze to his, taking comfort in his now-familiar features.
The line between his eyebrows deepens. “Who took care of you? I think you said you don’t really have family.”
“A neighbor, Mr. Chen, who was close to my mother and me, took me in. He was like family to us. Legally, I was an adult and didn’t need a guardian, but emotionally I was a wreck. He watched over me. If I hadn’t had him…well, I don’t want to think of what would have happened.”
I let out a deep sigh. “Mr. Chen was great, but he was old. He got really sick less than a year after losing my mom. That was a turning point for me. I had stopped caring about anything by then. Didn’t care about school or my future anymore. Mr. Chen made me promise to try again. He had been a doctor in Taiwan. Right before he died, I swore I would continue his legacy and go to medical school.”
I remember it, first one coffin going into the ground, then eight months later another coffin, another funeral. More sadness that made me feel like I was there with them, buried six feet deep. Like I’d never see the light again.
Ethan stops walking and stares at me, his face filled with quiet sympathy. “How did you survive it? I hate how you had to go through that, especially alone. If I had known you back then, I could have helped.”
Right there, in the middle of the walkway, with people flowing around us like water parting for two boulders, Ethan pulls me roughly to his chest. He hugs me tight. At first, my hands hang at my sides. I’m overwhelmed by his close proximity and by memories from my past. How different things could have been for me if I had known Ethan back then. How things could have been better if Shelly had stayed by my side. But Shelly had abandoned me. I’m worried that eventually everyone else, including Ethan, will leave me too.
This realization hits hard. I’ve spent the past decade of my life pushing everyone away, so I wouldn’t have to experience that kind of pain again. With tears pricking the backs of my eyes, my hands come alive and wrap around him, returning the hug.
Muffled against his firm chest, I murmur, “I wish I had known you back then, too.”
He pulls away and looks at me tenderly while I swallow my tears. Even though I’m working hard to let Ethan in, I still don’t like to cry in front of him.
“Man, I’m not doing a very good job of giving Tiffany the most fun day of her life so far, am I?” He frowns. “I ask you about sad stuff and dredge up memories you might not want to face.”
“It’s okay.” Seeing his doubtful expression, I repeat. “Really, it’s okay. I’m glad you asked. Most people don’t know what to say when someone you love dies so they stay silent, but that doesn’t help. I’m glad we talked.”
“Then I’m glad too.”